


Interacting Galaxies

by ML_Fox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Performing Art, Artists, Attraction, Classical Music, Contemporary Dancing, Dancer, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Koala Hugs, Music, Musicians, POV Alternating, POV Mary Macdonald, POV Sirius Black, POV Third Person, Romance, Romantic Fluff, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 03:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ML_Fox/pseuds/ML_Fox
Summary: Mary is a classical pianist. Sirius is a contemporary dancer. Though they are friends they live in their separate worlds for the most part. But she sees how a dancer soars and wants to know what it's like. Sirius gives her the chance and their worlds collide.





	Interacting Galaxies

The hall is a bit… echo-y.

Mary frowns. The sound comes out full-bodies from the piano. Yet, as it spreads throughout the air it disintegrates before it even has the chance of bouncing off the walls. Nevertheless, she keeps her fingers dancing over the keys. _Sonata Pathétique_ does not deserve this frustrating experience. It is as if she wants to take something, but she can’t even reach it. Mary sighs. What does she expect, anyway? This hall is a ceremonial hall—not concert. It’s not a practice hall either. The space was not designed in a way to contain sound. The walls not built to support musical instruments without proper amplification. Really, she does not have to be so snobby as to criticise a place she’s only using for a day.

Still. She wants this practice to go as smoothly—as usual, but especially now because of the venue change—as possible without any mistakes on her part. The end of year celebrations is two weeks away and with exams on top of everything else time is not their friend right now.

Damn Dirk Cresswell and stealing their _already booked_ practice hall from under their noses.

“Early as always, Macdonald.”

Mary looks up. Sirius emerges from the shadows of the backstage dressed in shorts and a jumper with a bag slung across his back. He gives her a grin. She returns it. He goes to her and embraces her by the shoulders. She leans into him, but continues to play. “I have to warm up.”

He kisses the top of her head. “So do I. But I love sleeping in.”

“Well… so do I,” Mary quips. He releases her and drops his bag by the piano. Quickly, he removes his jumper, revealing a tight-fitting singlet underneath, and shoes. She peeks at him as he sets his garments aside before stretching up, revealing a dimpled lower back. She looks away, a smile pulling at her lips. “I just want more time to prepare.”

Sirius lowers his arms with a sigh. “I _envy_ your discipline.”

Mary chuckles. “Yeah? Then try developing yours.”

“And risk eye-bags? Never!”

She rolls her eyes. They say no more as they focus on their own activities. Mary puts her full attention on the piece she’s playing, but sometimes she steals glances at Sirius. He’s going through his warm up routine. After stretching every muscle on his top half, he sits on the floor and works on the lower half. Sirius’ flexibility is ridiculous; just when Mary thinks he can’t stretch his limbs any longer, somehow he manages to reach an inch or so more. He’s one of the top contemporary dancers in the college, his interpretation and technique is second to none. Mary thinks it’s his body. He’s six feet tall, so he’s occupying plenty of space already, but when he dances it’s as if nothing can contain him.

It’s daunting, playing for him. However, when he asked her to compose for his end of year celebration performance she was quick to accept. There’s no way she would pass an opportunity to play to Sirius’ talent. And something about _him_ dancing to _her_ composition creates these little maddening flutters in her chest.

As Sirius stands, Mary slowly transitions to the opening notes of the performance composition, but he shakes his head. “Play what you were playing before.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’ll warm up a bit more until Doe comes in.”

“Right.” She restarts the second movement of the sonata. She watches him, fingers flying over the keys without supervision because she’s memorised this piece upside-down, inside-out. Sirius walks around in a small circle, rotating his arms and craning his neck from one side to the other. Finally he stops, facing the stage. He closes his eyes.

Then he begins to move.

Being a classical pianist, Mary knows squat about dancing—except for the things Sirius tells her. Yet even then she barely understands the proper techniques or whatnot, the choreography and that. He’s the same when she talks classical music. But she’s not a robot. Though she’s watching something she can’t understand on a technical level, her heart and soul tells her that what she’s witnessing is something inexplicably beautiful. Sublime. Breathtaking in a way that overwhelms her.

Sirius dances to the piece, the choreography all coming from his head. The first time he did this with her, she was so worried of having to butcher the piece to keep up with his dancing… but she didn’t have to. Sirius took the music as guide for his interpretation than force her to accommodate him—unlike the other egocentric dancers in the college. He still does that now. She teases him about developing more discipline, but that kind of thoughtfulness not only speaks about him as a performer, but it also highlights his dedication to improving his craft.

“Bravissimo!”

The music stops. Mary’s hands drop to her lap as she looks towards the entrance hall. It’s Dorcas. She’s sauntering down the sloped aisle, applauding leisurely with a teasing smile on her face. Mary glances at Sirius and sees him planting his hands on his hips, giving Doe a less than impressed expression. Doe doesn’t even acknowledge that; she ascends the stage nonchalantly, ceasing the applause as she approaches the piano.

“Finally, _she_ arrives,” Sirius comments wryly.

“I’m not _that_ late—hello, darling.” Doe says, kissing both of Mary’s cheeks after dropping her bags next to Sirius’. There’s no room for small talk as Doe makes quick work of removing her shoes and jumper, revealing a loose one off-shoulder shirt worn over leggings that reach her calves. She then bounds to Sirius, kissing both of his cheeks as well while he hugs her. They start to talk amongst themselves, their voices too low for Mary to hear. She returns to the piano and does some quiet scales.

“Sorry, Mary,” Doe says, “I’ll warm up and we can begin.”

“Take your time,” Mary smiles. She can practically feel Sirius’ sharp glare at that. However, when she looks at them they have returned to their hushed conversation. She restarts the quiet scales before transitioning to the opening phrase of the performance composition. She imagines the choreography as she plays, going over some parts repeatedly to ensure she times it right. Neither she nor the choreography leads each other. It’s teamwork. Both dance and music working with each other to create a symbiotic performance. If she leads in anyway or if the dancers do then the whole message will vanish.

“Mary, darling?”

Her fingers freeze over the keys. She blinks out of her focus and looks to Doe, who’s giving her a cheerful smile. “Hi,” she says, “ready?”

“Yes.” Doe giggles. Behind her, Sirius is shaking his head in amusement before taking his position near the back of the stage.

“Right.” Mary straightens her back. Her fingers hover to its starting positions as Doe takes her place beside Sirius. Mary watches her dancers. She counts her breaths. After the third, she gently presses on the keys. The sound comes out softly—she worries that the hall’s spaciousness will destroy it even before it reaches Doe and Sirius. However, to her surprise Doe takes a step forward. Sirius follows her. Each individual note flows into the other—she can’t stop, but so far so good.

Sirius picks up Doe and turns in place with her caressing his face as the music builds and spreads into a joyous melody. Mary watches them. Foremost reason is because she needs to make sure that the dancing and her playing is synchronised. The other reason is because no matter how many times she has seen the same steps, it still captures her. It’s a story of _true_ love. Doe suggested it because it relates to many people.

The exalting tone of the music transitions into something sadder, melancholic. After dancing together, Doe and Sirius now move away from each other. They dance in their own styles, but do a few moves in sync to show their connected hearts. They pass each other many times, but never touch—not even a longing glance at each other.

“Oh,” Sirius says, stumbling as he takes the wrong step and poses earlier than Doe. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Doe replies, “again. Mary?”

Mary nods. The two return to their previous places. She plays again and they move with the music as if they never stopped in the first place. Mary’s eyes close as she pulls the music away from its lonely tone, feeding the main theme underneath as she brings it to the third act: the reunion. She opens her eyes in time to see Doe catching Sirius’ hand. Sirius turns to her and as if his love implodes within him he pulls Doe flush against his body and lifts her. Now they move as one, their unified hearts giving them all the strength they need to move on with their lives together. There will be arguments, differences that reinforce the undeniable fact that they are two different people. And sometimes that will distance them.

But no matter what…

Mary gasps. The music goes to a crescendo. And stops. She takes her fingers completely off the keys as Doe leaps up in the air and sails into Sirius’ waiting arms. They lock in an intimate embrace. Mary’s hands clench into fists on her lap. She _desperately_ wants to applaud, but she’s not done yet. But they’re near. This final act is where synchronisation between Sirius and Doe are paramount and they’re perfect. The music becomes more joyous, the main theme now on top of the melody. As they are seconds away from the end, Mary slips her second hand to her lap, with the first only playing the final phrase. She sustains the last note as the couple do their final pose.

Not one of them speaks.

“Perfect,” Mary says, only deeming it appropriate to speak once she sees the two relax.

“Nearly,” Doe replies. She faces Sirius. “We were off by three seconds at least.”

“We are,” Sirius agrees, “I think I got us behind.”

“Hmmm…” Doe nods. She taps her finger against her lips. “There’s something off about the jumps as well. I wasn’t high enough this time—and our pirouettes need to be a bit tighter.”

“Yeah. Let’s also consider increasing the tension in some of the lifts too.”

Doe nods again. The conversation continues, but Sirius takes his eyes away from Doe to look at Mary. She’s playing with the piano, seemingly in her own world. Her expression is blank, uninterested even. But not five minutes ago he could have sworn he glimpsed abject shock on her face when Doe flew at him and he caught her. That is not the first time he has seen such an expression on her either. Mary never says anything and she only shows the barest hint of interest when he talks dance with her, but during practice she always wears that look of surprise while she watches them.

He wonders what it is. He forgets to ask. Is it the choreography? Does it not fit the music she composed? Is it because he’s rubbish? Wait, it can’t be that. He doesn’t even know the concept of failure let alone actually do it. The many questions running in circles in his mind are so full of weight that it pulls the corners of his lips in a frown. Maybe when they take a break he can ask her.

That break does not come until an hour well into practice. Their runs are not as smooth as the first. In their subsequent tries they have to stop at certain parts to hone their technique and fine-tune their timing. The performance is in two weeks—a lot of time for most people, but with exams coming up it’s not that much at all. In reality, they may only have two days’ worth of practice to perfect everything—three at most. If they ever hope to live up to the expectation of their teachers and peers then this performance _has_ to be perfect regardless of the fact that it’s just a celebratory dance.

Doe’s phone rings as they hydrate. She drapes her towel around her neck before picking the device from her bag and looking at the screen. “Ooh, I have to answer this—let’s take twenty?”

“Take your time,” Sirius says, a little sarcastically. He can feel Mary rolling her eyes at him.

“Thanks.” Doe jogs her way into the backstage as she answers the phone.

Sirius turns Mary, who produces sheet music from her bag and begins to write on it. He smiles before crouching to rummage in his bags. He takes out a condensed bottle of iced tea and a small box containing six macarons of different flavours. He goes to her side and shamelessly presses the bottom of the bottle to the side of her neck.

“Oi,” she chastises, flinching. “That’s cold.”

 “Not by much.” He jiggles the food before her, chuckling at the child-like grin on her face.

“Oh! You remembered.” She takes the food and leans into him. “Thank you.”

“Of course; I pay my debts.”

“And what _delicious_ debts they are,” Mary quips. She’s already munching the edges of a pastel yellow macaron with blood orange filling.

Sirius stares at her, compelled to commit the happiness on her face to memory. Honestly, he’s never seen anybody so happy to eat some overpriced, too-sweet French meringue almond biscuits before. After he gently nudges Mary so she can move and he can share the bench with her. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you always looked surprised during practice?”

Mary looks at him, lips clamped on the macaron. When she speaks again her voice is muffled. “Shurprished?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” She finishes the rest of the macaron and chews slowly before swallowing. “I—I—I’m just… I’m just amazed at the quality of dancing, is all.”

“But… you see it all the time.”

“True, true. But… it’s the way you two dance, you know?” she dramatically puts one hand over her heart and the other on her head. Then she breathes deeply. “It’s _breathtaking_. Sublime. Life changing.”

It takes a second or so for Mary’s words to sink into him. Sirius blinks. _That_ just came from a woman who shows next to nothing in terms of expression when he talks dance. He doesn’t even expect her to express an ounce of curiosity or even contribute to the topic during the conversation. He’s so surprised that he says nothing in reply. He continues to stare at Mary, who has become red under his scrutiny.

“Well,” she begins with hesitation, “it’s the way Doe moves, to be honest. _Absolute trust_ , you know? In her body and in the choreography and in you. She moves so seamlessly, trusting everything with every step. And when you lift her she just… _flows_ with you like liquid—my god, when she _soars_ into your arms without any hint of fear because she _knows_ you’ll catch her it takes my breath away.” She sighs. “It’s amazing, you know?

Sirius stretches his lips in what barely resembles a bemused smile. He never had someone praise another dancer to his face before. And with such _passion_ too. “And… I’m just sub par, am I?”

“No!” she laughs, holding onto his wrist. “No, that’s not what I meant at all—”

“How would you feel if I gush about Fenwick’s _transcendent_ piano playing?”

Sirius answers Mary's shocked and amused look with a challenging one of his own. “I’d feel that’s fair,” she answers, “Benjy’s technique is second to none after all.”

Oh, he cannot miss the hint of offense in her voice. He chuckles and his expression softens, unable to help himself. He nudges her gently. “Joking. You’re the best in this place.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. But I know you are,” she replies, “I just like the way Doe flies, is all.”

Sirius nods. They become silent. He looks around the stage while Mary continues to eat. The college usually uses this hall for graduations, assembly, or slightly more professional productions. Practicing here is a little challenging, but unfortunately they have no choice today. Damn Cresswell for stealing their booked practice room from under their noses. Well. That’s over now and practice is going well. As he looks deep within the backstage he notices the outline of a platform that’s two feet high. It looks like the extendable kind from the way it stacks on top of each other and the wheels at the bottom. An idea forms in his mind, influenced by Mary’s words. He smiles and stands, taking Mary’s hand and making her stand with him. “You want to soar?”

“Pardon?”

Without another word, Sirius goes to pull out the platform. With a few meddling he extends it a third of the way. He looks at Mary, grinning at the utter confusion on her face. Oh, she’ll love this. Well, he will at the very least. He rubs his hands together. “Right. Climb on the platform and jump. I’ll catch you.”

Mary’s jaw drops slightly and her eyes widen. “ _Pardon_?”

“You want to know how it feels to jump like Doe, yeah?”

She steps back. “I said nothing of the sort.”

“Come off it, Macdonald. Nobody gushes like that without wanting to try whatever they gush about at least once.”

She steps back again and shakes her head. “No, I can’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“In case it escaped your notice, I don’t dance.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to dance to jump.”

“What if you can’t catch me?”

“Your lack of faith breaks my heart.” Sirius clutches his heart and pretends to stagger.

“I just mean,” Mary sighs, “that you’ve been dancing with Doe for years. You know how to work with her.” She gestures wildly at herself. “Not only am I _not_ a dancer, Sirius, I’m also two stones heavier than her! What if I make you fall and break your back? What if you _die_? _What if I die_?”

He waves his hand nonchalantly. “It’s a two feet platform, Macdonald. No one will die—a broken bone at least.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“Come on.” He goes to her and takes her hands, pulling her towards the platform. Though she’s following him, he can sense her anxiety in the way she grips his hand. “You trust me right, Macdonald?”

“Of course…?”

“Then just think about that.”

Mary groans, but she does climb up the platform with Sirius’ help. He walks to the other end as Mary turns her back to him. Any normal person won’t know what she’s thinking about now, but Sirius has the privilege of being her friend. He can hear her thoughts aloud—she’s doing that thing of thinking about things too much. If she has the chance she’ll make an endless list of pros and cons. More often than not she makes her decisions with her mind. It’s a stark contrast to her piano playing, which clearly comes from her heart. That’s what makes her the best. Him teasing her about Fenwick is not a joke—more than once he’s heard that the man’s far better in interpretation and technique, but what makes Mary stand out is her heartfelt playing. It’s what makes her an artist… it’s why they all decided to attend this college instead of university.

But if at the end of all their education she still relies solely on logic when it comes to her life then all that effort will have been a waste.

“Macdonald,” Sirius calls. She turns to him. “Don’t think.”

Her shoulders slump. “I can’t help it.”

“Don’t.” He opens his arms. “Just jog and jump.”

Mary stares helplessly at him, but Sirius does not budge. She ends up squaring her shoulders and he has to let out a small triumphant smile. She takes a deep breath and like the _crazy_ person she is, she closes her eyes and jogs towards the end of the platform without opening them. Sirius braces himself as she launches off the edge with a frightened cry.

And everything happened at once.

In a split second, he notices that her trajectory’s veering to the right so he positions himself accordingly. Her height is also higher than he expected so he takes two steps back. Then she is in his arms. He wraps his arms around her back and waist as she clutches at him with her arms around his neck and legs around his hips. He stumbles back, but he secures his hold on her and steadies himself.

Neither of them speaks.

Sirius’ breaths are shallow as if he’s just run a hundred meter relay. He never realised how long and wavy Mary’s hair was until now… when it’s basically smothering him. He reaches up to brush it away from his face. Against his chest there is a faint fluttering that he can’t identify. Is it his heartbeat? After seconds of thinking about it he realises it belongs to Mary’s. She’s breathing heavier than he is. He can feel it coming fast and warm on his neck, where she tightly nuzzles her face.

He’s never noticed things like this before.

It’s like he’s the first human on earth discovering another for the first time. He notices how tightly his arm fits around her waist, the softness of her skin against his sweat-filmed shoulder blades. She’s curvaceous, he realises. And there is this hint of a sweet, but tart scent... green apples? A funny sort of painful feeling swirls in his chest and pools in his gut. Before he can even stop himself he’s pressing her tighter against him.

Which is strange… because Mary’s his friend.

“Mary?” Sirius murmurs, surprising himself when his voice comes out gentle. “All right?”

Mary nods. He shivers when she starts to speak. Her voice is low and muffled, which does nothing for him except make him painfully aware of her lips grazing over the suddenly sensitive skin of his neck. In that moment he’s wishing that she keeps talking for a bit longer.

“What?” he says when she stops, clearing his broken voice.

“That was scary,” Mary says as she, finally thank God, pulls away enough that they’re looking at each other. She has blue yes—intensely blue eyes, like sapphires. Sirius knows she has blue eyes, but not that they’re ridiculously blue. She also has freckles, though not as many or noticeable than Lily’s. He can count hers in both of his hands and they’re barely visible underneath a layer of makeup. He finds himself wishing to see her fresh-faced next time to he can be sure that she really does have eight freckles spread out across her cheeks.

“Not… not as scary as you thought, right?” he says.

“It was,” she says with wide eyes, "it _was_. You have no idea. It’s all fine now since you caught me, but if you hadn’t and I face planted, all my worst fears would have been realised.”

“I… thought your worst fear was dying from that ridiculously low height.”

“Yeah. That would have been the death of my dignity.”

It isn’t even funny. But Sirius laughs. His mirth is too much that he bows his head and presses his forehead against her collarbones. She chuckles along with him. It can be the tension of the stunt… most likely it’s the unspeakable thing that’s now existing between them. But for now the only thing they can share is laughter.

“Should I suggest you two to get a room?”

Sirius stops giggling. Mary does too. They look at each other, eyes wide, and finally realise how their position must look. They scramble to separate, mumbling shy and awkward things to each other as Mary disentangles her legs from Sirius’ hips, allowing him to slowly lower her on the floor. She quickly steps from him and he feels this strange loss as she returns to the piano. He can still feel her, the warmth of her skin still tingles on his palms. He turns to glare at Doe, who’s smiling at him teasingly.

“Good catch,” Doe mumbles to him as soon as she’s close.

Sirius deflates, his irate expression turning to horror. She’s been watching for that long? “It’s not—”

“Don’t let that one go, eh?”

Sirius opens his mouth to protest again, but Doe stops him with a wink. After dumping her things on her bag, she goes to her position. Unbelievable. He satisfies himself with glaring at the woman who is meant to be his friend before looking to the piano where Mary sits, staring at the keys. Her face is red. Is his face red? It feels like it. He stares until she looks up and they eyes meet. Her face becomes redder, but she nods at him and straightens her back. She’s not looking at him anymore. Doe’s not looking at him. No one is looking any anybody.

Sirius shakes his head and puts the platform back before going to Doe’s side. What happened is still fresh in his mind. He wants nothing more than to go right now and run to a place where he can think about this whole new information that he somehow just stumbled upon out of nowhere instead of seeing it coming from a mile away.

He sighs and poses. Break is over. Back to practice.

**Author's Note:**

> [FF.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12604002/1/Interacting-Galaxies) | [Tumblr](http://myuntoldstory.tumblr.com/post/163899073500/harry-potter-interacting-galaxies)
> 
> I know nothing about dancing—save for the little bits of information I learned from googling and watching the early seasons of _So You Think You Can Dance_. I know nothing about classical music either—save for the bits I learned from endlessly binge watching _Nodame Cantabile_ and once binge watching _Your Lie in April_. So if I named something wrong or wrote about some misinformation then do let me know!
> 
> Apart from that, I hope you enjoyed this. Ages ago my friend and I gushed about the Marauders in a performing arts alternate universe. So this is a call back to that. Mostly I just imagined this scenario of Mary jumping into Sirius' arms in a koala hug and I thought that I had to put this in a story somewhere.
> 
> Anyway. Thank you, hope you enjoyed, and as always feedback is always appreciated!


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